


Belonging

by larxenethefirefly



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Loose Interpretation of Canon, gratuitous use of osiris' cult, hand wavey vex magic, hunters are hunters no matter what, not a whole lotta violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 22:17:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13040592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larxenethefirefly/pseuds/larxenethefirefly
Summary: Some Guardians make a home in the Tower and find a purpose in fighting the Darkness.Others have to find their own way.





	1. Family

**Author's Note:**

> This is *meant* to run concurrently with another story of mine, I just... have yet to finish it. But this has been done for a while so I figured I'd bite the bullet and post it already.

_Log 2.241:_

_As predicted, the Vex chronometers draw their power from time itself. Disassembling it proves to be catastrophic to not only the internal systems but also to the handler- Ghost resurrection was instantaneous, but the workshop was not so lucky. Osiris informed me that we will need to find an isolated room with proper insulation to combat the wormhole that erupted._

_Perhaps if we manage to remove the room from time the results will be more satisfactory. The Vault will be the most likely site to experiment, but it is still largely unexplored and the passage of time in there is… strange. I am hesitant to open myself to the flow of time within its halls without the proper precautions. Osiris assures me that the Vex cannot consume organic bodies, but I am uncertain. There are legends of a fireteam that tried to take on the Vault and failed, and the fact there is no proof is all the proof I require. The Vex consumed them and scattered them throughout time. If we are not careful, my mentor and I will meet the same fate._

_Then again, he might meet it anyway. He has spent more and more time in the Forest, and every time I facilitate the opening of the Gate, I fear he will not return. It takes longer and longer each time, and the Speaker is becoming suspicious. I can only fend him off for so long. The more Osiris ignores his duties, the more he challenges the Speakers and his colleagues opinions, the less they listen to my assurances. Even now they search for my predecessor, intent on handing the mantel over to her. With luck, Osiris will give away his crown without fuss. Worse case scenario…_

_Well. I can only hope it doesn’t come to that._

There was clatter of metal upon rock, and a soft exclamation that heralded the arrival of his companion. Nero couldn’t help but smile, turning to see his Hunter stumble into the workshop, crouching awkwardly to get through the narrow passage.

“I’m back!” she announced, standing up and shaking her cloak out. Bits of dirt and cobwebs fell to the floor. “Star, you got the goods?”

Her Ghost huffed and, with a clang, a truly impressive pile of dead Vex appeared nearby, clattering rather carelessly to the floor. “Careful!... but thanks,” Nero said, rushing over to the pile.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, amused, as he started shifting through the various parts. “But next time, I’m going to Venus.”

Her Ghost whirred in distress. “Hestia, remember what happened last time?”

Nero looked up from a Vex chronometer. “Not her fault!”

“The ruins aren’t going to explore themselves,” Hestia said, ignoring both of them. “Besides, Star, I have you as my navigator! I won’t get lost this time.”

“You say that, and yet you always do.”

As Hunter and Ghost bickered, Nero dug through the remains until he found what he was looking for- an intact Vex mind core. Hestia had really outdone herself this time.

He carefully brought it back to his workbench, activating the small stasis chamber before placing the mind core into it. It would be fine in there until he needed it. After ensuring the stasis chamber was properly isolated, he turned back to the pile and began sifting through it for spare parts. There were still some preparations to make before he started figuring out how the Vex worked, and hopefully cracking their secret of time travel. 

Nero was surrounded by empty chassis and power cells when his Ghost beeped at him. “It’s time for dinner,” he said. When Nero ignored him, Cicero added, “and Hestia seems to have vanished.”

That got his attention. “She’s not in the living area?”

“I cannot detect her within the area. Her ship is still docked and she did not leave the caves, but her signature is gone.”

Nero frowned. She knew better than to tamper with anything, but like every Hunter, she had a curious streak a planet wide and a very morbid disregard for personal safety. If she got bored and decided to poke at a few Vex ruins… “Do you know where she was last?”

Cicero shifted his plates nervously. “Near the Chamber.”

That caused his heart to stop in fear. He had sealed it off for good reason- the first, and only, time he had gotten close to it he had watched the entire right side of his body age in seconds before being restored to normal, the process repeating until he ran in fear from the visions that had sprung up around him. He had hoped that the Chamber would be a way into the Vex timestream, but the defenses surrounding it required a price he wasn’t willing to pay.

And Hestia had willingly gone to it.

Mind cores forgotten, he raced out the room. He would not lose her again.

_Log 3.043:_

_I have discovered readings from Mercury that could house a potential artifact that the Vex use for their temporal travels. I sent a message to Osiris asking for any advice, but he has yet to respond. Ever since his exile he has been increasingly distant, and I fear that the madness the Speaker believe has consumed him truly will take root._

_I am hesitant to report this find to the Speaker and his Vanguard. They will want to hide it, but I know that there is something there that we can use. If I can find the data I need, then they will know that Osiris isn’t a madman for wanting to use the Vex for our own benefit. If we can control time, we can end the Darkness once and for all. Just imagine it! We could destroy it before it began, scatter it throughout time and realms and universes so that it will never hurt anyone again._

_I will wait one more day for word from my mentor. If he does not respond, then I will approach it myself._

She was a scrawny thing when they met, dressed in salvaged gear and a cloak that was so old and stained it was more thread than cloth, the hood barely covering her dirty blonde hair. There was a very real possibility that she was newly Risen, but it wasn’t impossible if she was just a very bad Hunter. Still, the way she stared at her surroundings indicated an intelligence that went beyond her appearance. 

He paid her no mind. A hunter was hunter like all the rest, prone to bad jokes and a vanity that nearly rivaled their fondness for knives. If she bothered him he’d distract her with something shiny and forget that she even existed. 

Unfortunately, she noticed him immediately and started to follow him throughout the Reef. He ignored her as he traded in data engrams to the cryptarch and spoke with Brother Vance about Order news, but as she creeped closer and continued to stare he finally had enough. “Go stalk someone else,” he grumbled, turning to pin her with a glare. “Or better yet, find some other hunters to share tall tales with.”

Instead of leaving, she merely smiled. “The other hunters don’t like me,” she said. “Think I’m too Warlock-y because I ask too many questions.”

“There isn’t anything remotely ‘warlock-y’ about you,” Nero replied, internally rolling his eyes. “I’m insulted you even said that.”

She laughed. “I think it’s a compliment. Nothing wrong with trying to discover secrets, you know? Especially if it gives me an edge over the Darkness or other Guardians.”

He considered her. She looked open, relaxed, but there was a challenge in her eyes now. He wondered if this was intentional- either way, he rose to the bait. “Oh? What secrets could you possibly know, new born?”

“It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you,” she smirked. “You Warlocks, so assured you are smarter than everyone.”

“We typically are,” he muttered, surprised she hadn’t grown bored with the conversation already. Perhaps he should start talking about quarks- that usually did the trick. 

The hunter waved her hand. “Book smarts, wild smarts, both are equally valid. You might be able to recite the exact molecular structure of the universe but you can’t win a fistfight against a Fallen Captain.”

He blinked. “No one can win a fistfight against a Captain.”

She blew a raspberry. “Besides the point. You seek out puzzles of the universe. I find the answers that others left, but not the questions. Wanna team up and see if we can’t solve some of them?”

“No.” She blinked, startled and- hurt?- by his response. He hesitated. “Look, I work better alone. Besides, I… am not in the Vanguard’s good graces at the moment. They would probably punish you for talking to me.”

She considered him for a moment. “I think you’re punishing yourself more,” she said to his surprise. “What your mentor did isn’t your fault. But hey, if you don’t think I’m worth it, then so be it.”

He watched as she left, about to put her out of her mind before she flashed a mischievous smile over her shoulder. “Guess I’ll just have to prove that I’m worth it.”

_Log 3.034…. Or 3.132…. Or however long it has been:_

_Osiris never responded. I decided to investigate the signal, and like a fool I went in by myself._

_It was normal, at first. A few strange energy fluctuations, but nothing that tampered with my equipment and it wasn’t saturated with Darkness. I set up a small camp near my ship in a cave that can easily be made into a hangar if I have the time. If things here work out, perhaps it shall._

_After taking an hour to ensure that the camp would not be disturbed and that my equipment was working properly, I started to track the signal._

_The caves were more complex than I had anticipated, and while the signal was a few hundred feet underground the tunnels seemed to avoid it. In hindsight I should have taken this as a warning- Vex do not waste infrastructure, after all- but I merely thought it was because of my own poor navigation skills. Nevertheless I finally found the correct path that led to the signals source, and after telling my Ghost to adjust the scanning frequency I eagerly started towards my goal._

_Almost immediately my Ghost told me that there was something wrong with our surroundings. I put it aside as his paranoia, since Cicero is prone to overreactions. Only when I began to feel my Light being distorted did I start to listen to his words._

_Time was…. It was almost like time was splitting. I have no other way to describe it. I could hold my arm out and I could clearly see the youth on my bicep, the old age on my forearm, and death on my hand. As I stared at my own skeleton, I knew that whatever was down the path was bigger than I ever imagined. And despite the concern starting to worm its way into my heart, I proceeded._

_I aged, I died, I was born again every few feet. My legs broke in one step, but were never injured in the second. Old scars opened up and bled as freely as the day they were made and then vanished as if they never existed. The pain was unbearable yet I continued, convincing myself that if I just passed this trial, the rewards would be beyond compare._

_And then the visions started. Images too gruesome to describe, followed by memories I could not remember but were undoubtedly mine… or what the Vex Construct wanted me to believe was mine. Memories from before I became a Guardian. It was perhaps these that caused me to turn, to run away from whatever was held in the chamber beyond. The man I once was… I am no longer him, and yet I am. Would the people in those images be proud of me now, or be ashamed that he became me?_

_When I escaped the constructs hold, it was like I had never stepped foot within the radius. And yet, months have passed while I battled the construct’s defenses. My Ghost’s internal chronometer says I spent no more than twenty minutes inside, but my ship’s logs clearly state that it has been ninety eight days._

_The Chamber may hold the answers I seek, but I know it will be at far too great a cost. Cicero has agreed to help me seal it tomorrow. For now, I am exhausted, and only hope that the demons I saw today do not follow me into my dreams._

It wasn’t hard to find information about the Hunter, who he discovered was named Hestia. She wasn’t the Vanguard’s Golden Girl, but she was one of their main agents, excelling in exploration and scouting, search and rescue, retrieval of priceless Golden Age relics, and she had led dozens of human settlements out of the Darkness and into the City’s safety. But she lacked initiative, the reports complained. Unable to improvise under pressure, a leader who preferred to be a sheep, since she always had a team with her. She could be brilliant if she wanted to, but instead wanted to avoid the spotlight.

The image the reports painted was in sharp contrast to the confident woman who approached him in the reef, and despite himself he was intrigued. It was clear that, despite her gear, she wasn’t new to fighting. Then why, he wondered, did she deliberately wear it? Why was it so important that she hide her potential, pretend she was weaker than she was?

And then there was the challenge. She would prove herself that she was a reliable partner. Why him? 

He shook his head and shoved away from the terminal. Cicero, who had been idly humming to himself, startled. “Oh, you’re finally done?” the Ghost asked.

“Yes. How long until we arrive?”

“Nearly there. Sister Adaya has already arrived.”

Nero bit back his groan of frustration. One of the more… uptight members of Osiris’ Order, she used to be a Titan before following Osiris’ call. The only reason she was marginally respectful towards Nero was because of his own relationship to Osiris, but made it clear that it was the only thing from keeping her from treating him like the bottom of her (rather massive) boots. 

So her scowl when he arrived was expected. What was not, however, was the room behind her. The room which was supposed to hold a cache of Golden Age tech, but was instead empty.

“Want to tell me what happened here?” Adaya asked frostily.

Nero was more than a little alarmed. “How? Who? I thought we were the only ones who knew!”

“Clearly you let it slip,” she snapped. “I found this.”

In her hand was a datapad- on it was a string of gibberish, followed by the words “Told you I’d prove it! If you want your tech, come find me. -H.” 

“Hestia,” Cicero said unnecessarily. “How’d she find out?”

Nero shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. Hunters,” he muttered. Why must everything be a game to them?

“Find her,” Adaya growled. “I don’t think I need to remind you how important those artifacts are.”

_Log 3.126:_

_I have decided to make these caves the base of my operations. Not only does the Chamber need to be barricaded, but the tunnels are full of signals and machinery I have never seen before. I have already begun mapping the tunnels and analyzing the signals emanating from the very walls, but I have yet to distinguish where they originate from. They are clearly flowing into the Chamber, but the source of their origin has yet to be determined._

_It is still possible to pursue my research here. I have isolated an anomaly radiating from the Chamber that I shall call ‘anti-time’. Instead of flowing forwards, it flows backwards- but yet is contained with a certain radius of the Chamber and only seems to be there to counter the regular flow of time. Yet the Vex clearly know how to control it since they can move forward and backwards at will. Perhaps they created it in order to do so? It’s instability is clearly the reason why it cannot extend far from its source of origin._

_Regardless, it is impossible for me to properly isolate and use it for my own purposes. Instead I shall attempt to find a suitable room here to conduct experiments on the variables I can isolate and control. If things go well, one day I may be able to protect myself from the Chamber’s effects._

_Until then, I must gather supplies. It is time to contact the Order, send them my results, and go on a hunt for resources._

The coordinates were on Earth, which immediately made him shifty but the need for the tech outweighed his own fears. It was far from the Tower, in any case, and his ship was unable to be picked up by Guardian or enemy radars. He landed a mile from the site, checked his guns and ammo, and crossed the plains to where she was.

Only to find a beacon, pinging a new set of coordinates, which led him to another beacon, and another, until he had travelled what felt like half of old Africa until he came upon an abandoned village. Immediately he remembered her history of saving human settlements- more than likely, this was one of them. The ramshackle buildings looked abandoned to the encroaching desert, but closer inspection proved they were well-maintained. So she was hiding something here- but what?

Cicero scanned the surroundings. “There’s definitely a cloaking device here, but some sort of signal is blocking my ability to scan. It’s highly sophisticated, so even I can barely sense it. The Fallen certainly won’t be able to.”

Nero walked further into the village, and he felt the invisible press of a barrier surround him- then it yielded, and he was free to roam.

The outer buildings yielded nothing but sand, cobwebs, and furniture that were only useful for kindling. The inner buildings were little better, but seemed to be in better shape, and a Guardian Sparrow was parked in the middle of town. It was a light blue in color with white detailing, and a white, stylized snowflake on the front. It was impractical and flashy and would stand out everywhere it went.

It was also very pretty, and incredibly well built. He was only slightly jealous.

“There is an extensive underground network beneath our feet,” Cicero reported. “And all of the houses are arrayed with scanners, sensors, and cameras. They are… hundreds of years old.”

Nero blinked. “You mean the people who lived here previously maintained them?”

“It seems so, although the state they were in before Hestia took over is uncertain.”

“Is there a way down?”

As if on cue, there was a beep, then a shed that was seemingly attached to the side of a nearby house slid to one side, revealing steps leading downwards.

“There’s your answer,” Cicero replied.

_Log 3.135:_

_I have heard from Osiris._

_It was a brief message, only stating that he intended to continue his research, and has decided to find supporters amongst the strongest of the Light. Since then, I have received news of his ‘Trials’, a tournament similar to the Iron Banner that tested the mettle of the Guardians invited. The best of the best… and I am not among them._

_Has my mentor abandoned me? Or is this merely another of his tests? He made no mention of my discoveries or of the Chamber. Simply the message, and a set of coordinates labeled ‘the Lighthouse’._

_It could not have come at a worst time, however. The Vanguard have become increasingly persistent in receiving news on my mentor, no doubt in light of these new Trials. They do not wish to lose more Guardians; I respect that. I was not there when Crota took the Moon, but the horror stories and the gaping emptiness that still exists around the Tower speaks enough volumes as to the losses we sustained._

_I am due back to speak to the Vanguard in three days to inform them of everything I know of Osiris and to surrender my Ghost for inspection. Should I show up, I betray Osiris. Should I not, I betray the Vanguard._

_It is time to decide where my loyalties lie. In the hands of an absent Master who may no longer want nor need me? Or a dying God who can no longer hear our pleas?_

Immediately upon descending it was clear that this was where the former inhabitants spent most of their time. It was well constructed, clean, and extensive. Cicero was quickly able to map the complex and send him directions to the large central room where he had picked up a large collection of Golden Age technology. 

In each room he passed, however, he was almost tempted to ignore the obvious prize. After saving the citizens from whatever calamity had required them to flee to the Traveler, Hestia had taken over the complex for herself and used it as a place to hoard her valuables. At first they hadn’t been anything exciting- an entire room was filled with cloaks, hanging up neatly in rows and sorted by color, and another was filled with spare weapon parts and armor pieces. 

And then, after a room filled with excess relic iron, spinmetal, and spirit bloom, he came upon an armory that almost made him stop.

Weapons lined the walls and covered racks, the space almost big enough to house his ship. Exotic weaponry that he had believed was mere myth were alongside weapons that would make any Guardian jealous. Vex and Hive augmented weapons were also displayed, with one wall of trophies taken from slain enemies. He was tempted- his fingers even twitched towards the door- but he had a mission, and even the sight of a Gjallarhorn front and center wasn’t enough to deter him.

After that he ignored the other treasures, though a few times he heard Cicero make a buzz of interest at whatever he spotted. Finally, he found the main chamber of the complex, the Golden Age tech in the center, and Hestia reclined atop it like a queen.

Gone was her tattered and worn armor. Her blonde hair gleamed and was braided to the side, blue eyes bright with humor and mischief. Instead of the threadbare cloak she wore one that stretched clear to her ankles, a red bird proudly displayed on a background of black and white. He recognized the symbol- it was that of the cloud walkers, those who led the first massive immigration to the City. While the original pioneers were long dead, many Guardians still honored their legacy, and it was fitting that Hestia did so as well.

“About time you showed up,” she said, and her Ghost appeared over her shoulder, looking quizzical. 

Cicero pulled his spines in defensively. “You didn’t make it easy on us!”

“Had to prove I was worth it,” she replied. “So? What do you say?”

He considered. She had hacked his communications to discover the location of the artifacts, smuggled them out without alerting anyone, and had been hiding countless treasures for who knew how long- she was more capable than the Vanguard believed, and the fact that she could hide this from them and make them perceive her as a minor annoyance rather than a threat was fascinating.

“How much do you know about the Vex?” he finally asked.

_Log 3.144-_

_The Brothers and Sisters at the Lighthouse have welcomed me with open arms, and already they have reported several Guardians who have defected from the Vanguard to follow Osiris’ teachings. As the only person with a direct line to Osiris himself, I am heralded as a god, or a prince._

_It discomforts me._

_Osiris clearly trusts me if I am to be his messenger, but I am at a loss as to explain what he expects of me. Already I am weary of my task- I may have defected from the Vanguard, but that does not mean I am loyal to Osiris. His ramblings have gotten worse, and it is only because I know him that I am able to interpret his messages. He does not answer any of my questions, merely gives me more things to do. I feel as if I am merely a means to an end._

_When I am not carrying out the tasks Osiris has asked of me, I return to my caves on Mercury to resume studying the Vex ruins. The completed map has helped tremendously, and by tomorrow I shall have my lab finally set up. Perhaps then I can finally make some headway into my research and finally get a straight answer from my Mentor._

Hestia was a force to be reckoned with.

She was deadly with her handcannon, a piece she called Ace of Spades that she cherished like it was her own child. “It’s not the real deal, of course,” she explained. “But it’s amazing what can be reverse engineered with the right persuasion.” The Void yielded to her with little protest as well, springing forth with cold and deadly fire in direct contrast to his own Light’s sunburst brightness. If her Light didn’t burn so brightly he could feel it, he would be worried that the void would consume her- every tether, every grenade, every time it flickered into life in the palm of her hand she let it inside her, let it eat away at a piece of her soul. He knew that her path was a dangerous one, but she seemed to be indifferent about the risks involved. “Some sacrifices are worth it,” she said once, and refused to speak more about the matter.

It was clear that she always gave more of herself than she took, but it wasn’t something he actually recognized until he agreed to work with her. She threw herself into every task she undertook, sometimes even into the direct line of enemy fire if it meant protecting someone else. The first time she threw herself at a grenade to prevent it from blowing up at his feet he yelled at her for an hour- he wasn’t worth it, he was exiled for a reason, if he died no one would even notice or care- but she simply looked at him with unwavering eyes and said that she didn’t regret it.

No one else had put his interest first. And he was suspicious- what did she want him for, how was she using him? But the longer he was with her, the more he began to see that she was genuine in her feelings, her commitment. They were partners, and she cared about him. Not because of what he could do for her, but because she liked him. 

And he found himself liking her back.

They made a good team- he with his knowledge of the enemies inner workings, her with her battle instincts. He knew the best place to hit, she knew how hard. He never had to worry about running into a fight, because he knew she had his back, and she never had to worry about being left alone, because he was always there. 

It was no surprise to him when he discovered he loved her. Just like it was natural to find out she had known all along, and was waiting for him to catch up.

The waterfall was a backdrop to their first kiss, her soul lay bare. This place was her own hidden hideaway- one of many around earth, the real treasures of her caches. Here she was simply Hestia, not a Hunter, not a renegade, not a footnote in Vanguard reports where she was too scared or cautious to show her true potential, a part of her hidden and withdrawn to protect herself from failure and abandonment. 

They woke up tangled in each other’s arms, and Nero vowed that he would never give her cause to doubt him, and that she would always have a home and someone to return to so long as he was alive.

But then came the Vault of Glass.

Then came her death.

_Log 3.257-_

_The Vault is the key._

_But how does one open the lock?_

_I have spent countless hours on Venus studying Vex architecture, learning their circuits from the inside out, communing with their code- and even then I have learned so little. The Vex’s mastery of time and it’s dimensions is too complicated for an organic mind to understand, limited as it is. I know it is not impossible, for there are those who have ventured there before, but the way they unlocked the Vault’s secrets are a mystery. What little I have learned is this: one cannot enter the Vault alone, and it is the domain of a creature known only as Atheon, the master of time himself._

_I am unsure if this Atheon is the Vex’s ruler, or if he the Vex himself. Perhaps he is both but not at the same time. If the Vex share minds, then perhaps this Atheon is nothing but a construct of their own making, several hundred of them housed in a single chassis. But whatever he is, he is dangerous. If he is the ruler of the Vault, then I must protect myself in his castle. It will be far, far too easy to find myself in one of their simulations, to fall into a current of time and be lost forever. Perhaps I already am. But regardless, I must access it. I will triumph over Time, and I will prove to everyone, to Osiris, that I am not bound by another’s shadow._

“No! Hestia, get away-”

She turned, but it was too late. The gate opened, and the platform disappeared below her feet. Hestia gasped, her hand reaching out for his, desperate, clinging at air-

The other Guardians they had brought with them shouted in fear, but all he could see was Hestia falling, being taken by the gate and vanishing. Star flew after her, but the portal closed before the Ghost could follow, and it passed uselessly through the construct.

Nero was frantic. “We have to open it again! We have to get her back!”

The Titan shook her head. “I’m not becoming like her. We have to get out of here.”

“We don’t even know how it activated in the first place,” the other Warlock agreed, edging towards the exit.

Edging towards defeat.

Only the other Hunter, a friend of Hestia’s called Aric, looked conflicted. “There’s no guarantee that it will open to where she fell,” he said, and the others shot him a look of pity before they fled.

“I don’t care,” Nero growled. “She’s trapped, lost, because of me. If I don’t get her back-”

Before they entered the Vault she said she believed in him.

“I have to get her back.”

Aric nodded. “Then let’s get her back.”

_Log 56.003-_

_It has been decades since I started my studies. A few years ago Osiris stopped contacting me altogether-not that he kept regular correspondence to begin with. The passage of time is strange here, but even I know when I have been forgotten. Still, I feel uneasy. Despite my best endeavours, none of the other members of his Order know where he is. I have not decrypted his last message, but I still assume he has somehow found a way to merge into Time. It is the only answer that makes sense, and his Ghost has not moved from my table since it came to me last week. It is not dead, it merely watches, and waits. For what, I do not know. I try to make it as comfortable as I can._

_Cicero does not like her. I cannot blame him. It’s too stark a reminder of what could happen to him, one day._

_As for myself, I have been reviewing my old audio reports in the hopes that I can remember something that may help me crack the Vault. So far it has not been a success, but I wish I could return to the days where I only knew the word of my Mentor. Things were less complicated then- more hopeful. Now I despair that I will ever find the answers I seek._

_I know that Cicero is worried about me. Other than him, the silent Ghost, and my logs, I have no other form of companionship. Those who inhabit the Lighthouse stay hidden from view, watching, or spying, on those Guardians who dared to take on their Trials. Perhaps they are waiting for Osiris to return- perhaps they have simply become too powerful in their own minds. Whatever the reason, I avoid the place now, unable to see the place as the home it was supposed to have been. It is yet another shrine to a man who would make himself a god._

It takes time. Time, bribes, and swallowing of pride- Aric goes to the Tower, and comes back to the Vault with some new holes in his cloak. “She shot me,” he replied at Nero’s questioning look. “But Ikora is nothing if not honorable.”

He holds out a data drive. It contained the entirety of the Vanguard and Cryptarch archives on the Vex. The price was Sagira- Osiris’ Ghost didn’t have anything to say on the matter, but she seemed… relieved. Nero tried not to feel too bitter- there was a reason that Ikora was Vanguard, but it was hard to not hold some resentment when he was sacrificed and Osiris’ brightest pupil benefited from her mentor’s absence.

Cicero took only a moment to download the information. Almost immediately he shuddered. “It’s a good thing Guardians can’t be simulated,” Cicero said. “I feel like we’re being watched.”

“Make it quick,” Aric said nervously. “We’ve already been here too long.”

The Ghost darted off, and the two followed after. Aric’s own Ghost nestled in the shadows of his hood, muttering quietly to itself. It was a skittish thing, silvers and dark blues in contrast to Cicero’s own bright yellow. “I don’t like this,” it said.

“We’re almost done,” Aric soothed. “Besides, we owe Hestia this.”

Cicero interrupted, scanning a dark and vacant portal. “Here.”

Nero reached into his pocket and pulled out Star. Ever since her Guardian’s disappearance she’d been listless, only stating that she couldn’t feel Hestia anywhere. Her light flickered on, but she just seemed… tired. “Why are we here?” she asked.

Cicero floated back over, nudging her. “She’s here,” he said. “Can’t you feel her?”

Star let herself be guided, reluctantly scanning gate. “I can’t tell,” she said. “There’s Light, but…”

The portal suddenly lit up at Star’s prodding, and the Ghost shuddered. “Oh!” 

Nero and Aric alike startled and made a grab for her as she darted forward, disappearing into the portal. “Cover me!” Cicero shouted, keeping the portal open. “She’s going to find her. But the Vex-”

“We’ll keep them off you,” Aric said, immediately scaling the architecture to find a good vantage point. Nero pulled his scout rifle from its position on his back and ducked behind a convenient boulder.

The Vex were relentless and persistent, and Nero only started to worry when the number of minotaurs and hydras outnumbered the goblins. He was low on rockets and synthesis, and he had long ago discarded his shotgun from lack of ammo. With Cicero occupied, he was unable to fully heal, and he was starting to feel every bullet graze, the drag of exhaustion. There was a bruise developing on his shoulder from the recoil of his shotgun, and a bullet flattened itself against his barrier above his chest but still knocked the wind out of him. “How much longer?” he asked, gasping and staggering back to another spot just before his cover was swarmed.

“Almost- Found her! She found her!”

The gate sparked, and Hestia didn’t exit so much as tumble out of the gate. But she was still, and pale, and for a second he thought-

“I couldn’t find her Light,” Star said, voice small.

Nero didn’t let himself dwell on that. He took the last remains of his Light, letting it boil around him. Solar energy exploded around him, and the shattered and mangled machinery left behind in his wake spoke of his fury.

Finally, all was still. The gate powered down, once more dark and quiet. And Hestia remained still.

“She’s still alive,” Aric said quietly when Nero finally joined them. He was stumbling, finally reaching his breaking point. Cicero healed his wounds, but he barely noticed. He collapsed next to Hestia, picking up her hand, feeling her pulse beat steadily below his questing fingers. 

“Why isn’t she awake?” he rasped.

Star huddled in the curve of her Guardian’s neck. “I could find her, but she was fragmented,” the Ghost whimpered. “Torn between multiple realities. It took too long to piece her back together, and I couldn’t find everything.”

Nero and Aric exchanged glances. “What do you mean?” Aric asked as Nero suffocated under his own fear.

“Her body's here,” Star whispered. “But her Light is gone.”

Aric startles, pulling something out from Hestia’s closed fist. “Nero,” he said quietly.

In his hand is a piece of paper, emblazoned only with the eye of Osiris.

_Log 56.005-_

_I had a run in with the Vex today._

_It really is a minor miracle that they haven’t stumbled upon my lab in the first place, considering my proximity to the Chamber. As it is, I was returning from a supply run when I happened to encounter a goblin near the entrance._

_That in itself isn’t unusual. Mercury is crawling with Vex, and there have been occasions where I needed to clear out the surrounding area when they get too close. I assumed it was merely a lone unit, and continued on my way._

_Upon entering the cave system proper, however, I discovered a force far larger than I was expecting._

_Cicero revived me five times during the course of the fight, and several ‘rooms’ were completely destroyed- but my lab remained safe._

_It wasn’t until after it was over that I realized that they weren’t firing at me, and only when I attacked did they reciprocate._

_The implications are… disturbing. I have not been here long, but I am either being assimilated into the Vex matrix, or I am no longer being perceived as a threat. I have not felt any side effects if it is the former, nor have I undergone any… transformations. The latter is unlikely, but not impossible. Anything can become a part of the scenery if it is there long enough._

_Perhaps my Ghost is right. I need to get off of Mercury, to reacquaint myself with the solar system, to remember what it is like to be human, to be reunited with the Light. I cannot return to Earth, but there are parts of the Reef that now welcome Guardians, parts where the Queen’s eyes cannot see. I shall visit there tomorrow, then. The Awoken may not care much about Vex, but they know the Darkness, and rumor has it they have connections to the Nine. I may yet learn something from the visit, even if the lesson isn’t obvious at first…_

Cicero led the way through the Vex tunnels as Nero chased after him, shouting Hestia’s name. She was separated from her Light, if she died, if she-

“Surprise!”

He was tackled from behind, vision obscured by a familiar pair of hands and a swirl of fabric. Hestia shrieked with laughter as he startled, his Solar light flaring in his moment of panic before he reigned it in. She was still laughing as he turned to her, gripping her upper arms in panic. “Hestia! Where were you? I was worried sick!”

Her laughter died out, and she stared at him with wide eyes. “Right here. You weren’t coming to dinner, so I told Cicero to get your attention.”

Nero turned accusing eyes to his Ghost, who actually cowered behind Hestia. “Sorry. But you really weren’t paying attention.” He shifted guiltily. “And she technically is near the Chamber…”

Hestia’s arms wrapped around him, and despite his lingering fear and anger at his Ghost he still returned the gesture. “The kitchen is not near the Chamber.”

“It’s closer than your lab!”

Nero sighed, but Hestia’s small, apologetic smile melted his lingering annoyance. “Don’t scare me like that,” he finally said. “You know I worry.”

“Sorry,” she murmured, snuggling further into him. A different emotion entirely started to take him over. “I know. But you’ve just been so stressed lately, I was trying to take your mind off of it.”

“And you potentially being lost to the Vex timestreams yet again was the best way to do that?” he asked dryly.

She sighed. “No. That was just to get you out of your lab. Come on.”

Hestia led him through the tunnels until they emerged outside, the sun against their back and blocked by a towering Vex spire. Candles were situated around the small balcony, with cushions and pillows in a familiar color-

“Did you steal from the Lighthouse?”

“It’s not like they were using them!” Hestia protested. 

“You stole from the Lighthouse!”

“I didn’t run away with any weapons,” she muttered, frowning intensely. Clearly, it wasn’t from a lack of trying. 

He laughed, and she grinned back at him before revealing her true purpose: a picnic. There was actual, genuine fruit laid out on plates, not the dried bagged kind that were mass produced for Guardians on the go. There was also sandwiches, water, and the closest one could get to ice cream without going bankrupt for the genuine kind. He didn’t know how long she had been collecting the items for this, and didn’t care- her late arrival suddenly made sense, and he swept her up in his arms, thankful that the Traveler had allowed her to be here, with him.

“Nero! Put me down!” she laughed, but her giggles swiftly gave way to a quiet gasp when he bent down to kiss her.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other. Eventually he pulled away, resting his forehead to hers. The motion was a little awkward- he was a head taller than her- but there was a comfortable silence between them.

“I take it you like the surprise?” she whispered.

He swallowed. “I do,” he replied. No one else in his second life had done this. No one else had bothered to care for him- Osiris used him, the Vanguard despised him. It had been him and his Ghost for so long, he had almost forgotten-

“Hestia? I need to tell you something.”

And so she sat with him, listened as he told her about his past, the visions he saw in the Chamber. His fears, his desires, his selfish wants. And throughout it all she was quiet, her hand steady in his, expression free of pity.

And in the end, all she said was: “No matter what, I’m here for you.”

He had been left behind for too long.

Now he no longer had to fear it.

And so long as he had his Hunter there to watch his back, he never would.


	2. Home

The only rule Hestia’s mentor told her that she must never break was to never fall in love.

“We are soldiers fighting a never ending war,” he said. “Guardians die every day. If you fall in love, you’re only setting yourself up for more losses.”

She painted her first vermillion stripe when he died protecting her. She was never any good at following the rules, anyway.

\----

There were three things Hestia knew about her life as a Guardian.

The first was that she hated fighting. She was good at it, since all Guardians were reborn with the knowledge. That didn’t mean she wanted to. Sure, she liked saving people, and if she could fall asleep knowing there were more alive than dead, it was a good day. But she was still a soldier, when her heart knew she was meant for more.

The second was that she was on her own. Fireteams wanted her for her abilities- Nightstalkers were rare, but powerful, and could often mean the difference between life and death. But at the end of every mission, every strike, they left her behind. She was too different- no one had need of a borderline pacifist, a Guardian who questioned the rules and what they knew about the Darkness. She was useful, but no one would mourn her leaving. 

The last was that if she became recognized, powerful, she would either die a martyr or be outcast. The Vanguard didn’t like their heroes questioning them- so she kept her head down, hid her potential, did a little less than the Vanguard expected and they left her alone. 

It wasn’t a rewarding life, but it was hers. And if she was lonely, well, it was a feeling she was all too familiar with.

\----

Not many Guardians knew about their past life. 

Hestia was not among them. If she concentrated, she could vaguely remember a family- a mother, a sister, a man who loved her. More than that was lost.

Whoever they were, they were long gone, and best left forgotten.

Nowadays she visits those she saved, bringing them supplies, ensuring they were well. She let the kids ride piggyback for a little while, took a few of the older ones on Sparrow rides- once she led a dodgeball team to victory, and celebrated by buying the entire community sweet cakes. But even these respites were temporary- she didn’t really belong there, didn’t fit in. At the end of the day she was still a Guardian, who knew the art of war more intimately than five of their generations. No matter how much she wanted to fit in, she never could.

To the people she rescued, she was a symbol. To the Vanguard, she was a tool. Hestia wished she could just be herself.

\----

She was reborn in rubble, lying over a concrete slab like a sacrificial offering to some long dead god. Her first breath burned, and when she rolled over, coughing up dust, the Ghost hovered quietly.

“Where am I?” she asked, voice rough.

“What used to be a part of the American empire,” the small orb replied. It’s voice was feminine, but quiet. “Thankfully, there are no enemies of the Darkness around.”

“Darkness?”

Over the next two hours, the Ghost explained about Guardians, Light, Darkness, and the Traveler. She listened intently, asking a few questions for clarification, but otherwise letting the Ghost talk.

“What’s my name?” she finally asked, when it was done.

The Ghost spun in contemplation. “I don’t know,” it said. “Many Guardians choose their name. Some remember. Others can be retrieved. You… have been dead for a long time. There’s not a whole lot left.”

She was quiet. “So you don’t know who I was?”

“Who you are now is what matters,” the Ghost replied.

Without anything else to do, she picked a direction and started walking. “Can you tell me a story, Ghost?” she asked.

“Why?”

“This is going to be a long journey. Some form of entertainment will be appreciated.”

The Ghost whirred. “I don’t know any stories.”

She sighed. “Well, you’re no help.”

It didn’t get better, but it got a little easier. She travelled for weeks, scrounging for supplies. Sometimes she found useful things- tattered fabric she could use as a blanket, a rusted sewing kit, a broken knife. 

The entire time, her Ghost told her about the history of the Traveler, her purpose as a Guardian, and how much they needed to find the City.

Three months after her rebirth, she was found by a colony of humans out hunting. She was huddled next to a fire, and when they approached she clutched her knife, crouched in a defensive posture.

The man leading the group approached with his hands high. “We mean you no harm,” he said. “We just saw your fire and wanted to see if you were friendly.”

“I didn’t know anyone else was alive out here,” she replied.

They took her to their home the next day, and before long she was a part of the community. They provided her with food, shelter, and a purpose more tangible than that of a Guardian- they even gave her a name. 

“Hestia. Lady of the fire,” the elder said, and it felt right.

In time, her Ghost grew to accept her decision. It helped her hunt and scavenge for supplies, and nestled in the thick scarf she wore around her neck when it wasn’t needed. It learned the stories the small colony had kept since the collapse, and repeated them back to Hestia when the nights were long. It was a good life. It was a safe life.

Six months after she joined the settlement, she decided to take an extra day to scavenge. The weather had been nice for a longer time frame than normal, and winter was approaching soon- any extra supplies would help. She fell asleep glowing with pride at taking down an elk, the meat it provided promising at least a month of food. Early the next morning, though, she crested a ridge to see smoke curling in the distance- larger than a bonfire. Concerned flowered in her chest- if the nearby woods caught on fire, the settlement was in danger.

The reality was worse.

The settlement was destroyed, doors swinging on hinges and dead bodies strewn in the street. A Fallen flag was planted in the earth- the House of Talons, according to her Ghost. There were no life signs.

Hestia howled to the sky, knowing that if she had just returned when she was meant to, this wouldn’t have happened. She could have bought them time, let them retreat while she fought the Fallen off. She could die. They didn’t deserve it.

Their tracks led North.

She was the Traveler’s Hunter? Then she would hunt.

\----

Hestia died for the first time in a Talon lair. 

She gasped for air when she came back, picked up a fallen scout rifle, and continued on.

\----

Five years into her hunt, she met another Guardian.

It was a Warlock, and their Light nearly blinded her. “I heard rumors of a renegade guardian in the area,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting a newly Risen.”

“I’m not that new,” she retorted. On her back was a cloak sewn from the capes of those she had slain, a hundred patchwork fabrics combined together as her trophy.

“I’m over a hundred, young one. Your Light is still new, unrealized. Tell me, can you even manifest it?”

Hestia raised her head defiantly. “Bullets work well enough.”

“But they don’t last.” He cocked his head, face obscured by his helmet. The sheer power radiating from him would have sent the younger version of herself to her knees. But she had fought, and killed, and vengeance was a powerful thing. “The Traveler gave you these abilities for a reason. Why not use them?”

She shrugged. “They don’t… fit.”

Her Ghost had tried teaching her. She could summon a small bit of solar power, enough to light a fire or keep her warm, but it fizzled out when she tried anything more powerful. She had slightly better luck with the arc energy, but more often than not it hurt her as well. Her Ghost said that some Hunters could use the Void, but it wasn’t easy for them- Warlocks summoned it as natural as breathing, and Titans could manipulate it easily, but only a few Hunters could even call upon the Void and have it answer them. Since her Ghost didn’t know how, Hestia had never even considered trying.

“It is impressive that you got this far then,” he commented. “But this is not your war alone.”

Hestia frowned. “It became my war when they killed my family,” she said. “And I won’t stop until they are all dead.”

The Warlock barked out a laugh. “You think you can single handedly take on an entire Fallen House without being able to use your Light? Hundreds of fireteams have fallen to Captains, and very few have even seen an Archon and lived to tell the tale.”

“I don’t need Light,” she snapped. “I know how to Hunt, trap, and shoot. I use the environment against them, their own weapons against them. I turn them against themselves if I have to.”

“And what happens when they get wise to your schemes?” he demanded. “When they bring the fight to you, overwhelm you with numbers? The Fallen aren’t brainless. If we don’t respect the enemy, they’ve already won.”

Hestia was nearly vibrating from anger. How dare he. How dare he show up and flaunt his power, his knowledge, and do nothing to help? All he had done was tell her to leave, to give up, like she was a misbehaving child. “I don’t know who you are, but if you aren’t going to help me, then go away,” she snapped. “Even if I die, it means that someone else didn’t. That’s enough for me.”

“You think your death will make a difference?” He shook his head, sounding almost disappointed. “The Fallen are a dime a dozen. They outnumber us a thousand to one, and you think that killing a few dozen will make them scared? You are merely a gnat to them, nothing more than a temporary annoyance.”

“I have taken down a dozen of their lairs,” she snarled. “I have saved three settlements from attacks, and avenged those I did not. Who are you to tell me that I have done nothing, when you are the one who hasn’t done anything?”

Energy crackled along her arm, licking up her armor. The Warlock ignored it, leaning closer. “You don’t know anything,” he taunted. “Those lairs have been filled since you last visited. Those settlements will be attacked again tomorrow. You are mistaking a battle for the war, and the dead don’t care what you do in their name. After all, you weren’t strong enough to save them.”

Hestia lunged for him, and between her hands a purple fire roared, exploding between them. They were both sent flying, Hestia landing a few feet away, the Warlock gracefully floating down to earth. 

“Ah, a Hunter who is in tune with the Void,” he said, sounding satisfied. “It isn’t often that you see a Nightstalker being born.”

The purple fire was still there, but it was fading. Hestia was alarmed- but as soon as she focused on it, the fire grew, and enveloped her.

It was natural to shape it, to give it a purpose. Somewhere, the Warlock was speaking- “I envy the Hunters who can use the Void, they are always in tune with it in a way no one can really understand”- but Hestia wasn’t paying attention. For she could feel the Void inside of her, and she knew, without a doubt, that this was the real manifestation of her Light.

She felt no qualms about forming a bow, and shooting the Warlock. He might have helped her realize her abilities, but he was still a jerk.

His Ghost was clearly surprised, and even hers started to scold her, but Hestia stalked off. She didn’t need any more of his judgement or manipulations. She still had a task to do.

It took her another ten years, countless deaths, and the sacrifice of her cloak, but in the end, she was victorious.

\----

Eventually, she had to visit the City, and ultimately, the Vanguard Tower. Aside from the one Warlock, who she hadn’t seen again after that fateful day, she had yet to meet another Guardian. And her Ghost was right- she would learn better if people could teach her.

And she was tired of her armor being scavenged from Fallen. She still couldn’t get the smell out.

Without a ship she had to walk, but eventually she reached it. The Titans guarding the door into the Wall took one look at her and shook their heads.

“We got a newbie,” one said.

“Good luck, kid,” his partner replied, and opened the door.

Hestia grit her teeth and entered.

\----

She would learn to use people’s assumptions against them.

For now, she merely let the annoyance simmer.

\----

Her mentor was a hunter with a scar over his left eye and a limp that spoke of countless battles and near deaths. Despite the maimed leg and missing eye, however, he still moved with a grace on the battlefield with a spear of arc energy that devastated their foes.

In the village, Hestia had learned that everything had a purpose and a use. In the wilds, she had learned to use the environment to her advantage. With her Mentor, she learned how to combine these skills into something sharper, more deadly.

Love, cunning, and trust- it was these three things that she carried with her most deeply, however. Love of a family, cunning to outwit your enemies, and trust that your partner will have your back.

“The second will keep you alive,” her mentor said when she told him. “The last will give you allies. But the first? The first is dangerous. It will kill you faster than a Captain’s blade and yet slower than Hive poison. We were not built to love, Hestia. We were built for war.”

“But what happens when the war ends?”

“We are soldiers. There are always more battles to fight.”

She didn’t tell him that she felt most at peace by herself, with no expectations.

But under him she learned how to win a battle before it started, how to minimize the death, how to read a battle and know when it was time to press the advantage, retreat, or spot an opportunity to turn the tide of battle. Perhaps, she thought, he understood her more than she realized- when they attacked a Fallen base, and with one kill started a fight that annihilated most of the enemies from friendly fire, she shot him a wide grin that elicited a small, reluctant smile.

\----

She found the waterfall on her first solo mission.

The people she saved showed it to her- they were grateful for her rescue, and were more than happy to show her around their home. 

When they parted the overgrown tree branches and showed her up the small incline to the hidden waterfall and the pool of water that was deep enough to swim in, she felt peace.

The locals were more than happy to help her build a small shelter nearby so that she had a place to stay for the times she visited. Whenever she saw them after that, she made sure to bring them extra supplies.

\----

Most hunters collected items. There were stashes of goods all over the Solar System, and to share the coordinates of a stash was the sign of utmost trust. There was also a hierarchy of those who had the best hiding places- like the private war with the Warlocks over sartorial choices, Hunters competed with each other for the best holes to squirrel away their gear.

Hestia collected places.

Every time she rescued a settlement, she asked them to show her around their home. To those who were forced to leave, it was a final goodbye- to those who could stay, it was a reaffirmation of the things they could have lost. 

She collected them and kept them, quietly, preserving these precious places that made them think of home. 

After all, hers no longer existed.

\----

“Star? Why do you think the Traveler chose me?”

“Because it knew you were worthy of its gifts.”

“So the Warlords were worthy, too?”

“.... they were worthy of their abilities. They just chose not to use them as intended.”

“That’s just a fancy way of saying you don’t know.”

“I was created after it died. I don’t really know.”

“Some of the other Guardians don’t think I am.”

“How many people have they saved?”

“More than me, if what they say is true.”

“They deal in the theoretical. You have concrete numbers. Ignore them.”

“I still don’t belong.”

“You will. Eventually. Everyone finds their place to belong sooner or later.”

\----

The Warlock Vanguard approached her as she talked with the gunsmith about a custom weapon. She had been relying on Vanguard stock weapons, but they didn’t quite fit her fighting style. Hestia needed flexibility, and the standard weapons were rigid in their execution.

“Come,” she said, when Hestia realized her presence. “A situation has arisen that we need your expertise in.”

Worried, Hestia followed. Her mind was whirling- what could they possibly mean? Was one of her settlements in danger? Did they need to convince one to leave? Was her communities in the City in trouble-

A hologram of the Warlock she met was on the table, along with a smaller one of a dark-haired man.

“That’s the Guardian I killed with my bow,” she realized, pointing at the first.

The Vanguard looked startled. “You killed him?” the Titan demanded. Zavala, she recognized- he was the one who had been in charge the longest, with Ikora as the most recent installment. She looked as if Hestia was spouting nonsense, while Andal merely burst out laughing.

“You were the renegade he tried tracking down!” he said. “I was wondering why he came back in such a foul mood- said you were unable to be reasoned with.”

Ikora had a strange look on her face. “So he didn’t try to recruit you?”

Hestia looked between them, bewildered. “All he did was insult my abilities.”

“So you don’t know where he is,” Zavala pressed.

At her continued confusion, Andal laid a gentle hand on her arm. She had always liked him- he was more down to earth than the other Vanguard, never willing to let others do what he himself could not. “We have reason to believe that Osiris is building a private army,” he explained. “Guardians have been disappearing for years now to answer his call- his own apprentice has been AWOL for decades.” He gestured at the second holo. “If he decides to go to war with the City...”

“So what does this have to do with me?” she asked as Andal hesitated.

Zavala sighed. “We need any information you can give us,” he replied. “You are one of the few who have dealt with him before that we can find.”

Hestia shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t have much to tell you. He tracked me down and insulted me, so I shot him. I didn’t stick around for the revive.” 

“Why did he track you down, though?” Ikora pressed.

“I assume he wanted to recruit me because I was unknown to the City?” Hestia hedged, uncomfortable. “You would know better than I would, you were his apprentice after all.” If they found out about her war with the House of Talons…

“But why?” Zavala asked. “You had to do something to warrant his attention in the first place.”

Nervous, she tried to think of an excuse, but to her surprise it was Andal who saved her. “We knew she had saved settlements before she arrived at the City,” he said. “Osiris probably heard about her from them, and an unaffiliated Guardian was the perfect target. Someone who was alone, without backup, would feel indebted to him saving them. It was how others were collected, after all.”

Hestia felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and relief at his words, and could only nod mutely. The others seemed satisfied with that response, and only told her to send them word should she remember anything else before dismissing her.

Andal caught her gaze before she left, and gave her a small, secretive smile. 

Her past was safe.

And for that, she was grateful.

\----

When he died, she cried for three days.

A new stripe adorned her armor when she finally emerged from her room.

\----

Titans had their bars, Warlocks had their libraries, and Hunters had their gardens.

“The closest place we can get to the Wilds in the City,” someone had explained to her once.

There was a forgotten one that Hestia had unofficially claimed as her own, a tiny balcony in the Tower that was mostly empty pots and a window box along the far railing, the few flowers brown and withered when she found it. Most had to be thrown out, but small white clustered flowers had bloomed with some water in one pot, and a bush with giant purple flowers now flourished in one corner. The window box now held green leafy vines that hung several feet below her. It was calming, to come here and take care of her plants, to escape the idolization of the City, the demands of the Tower, the war that existed in the Wilds.

It took years to cultivate, but eventually it became a haven. An arch of roses that framed the door. One side dominated by the bush with purple flowers that was taller than her even when standing, the other side a careful patch of various potted plants. The vines that grew out of the window box were wrapped around the railing for support and decoration before falling towards the ground again, and now boasted tiny flowers of its own. Small fairy lights were tangled with the vines and plants and glowed softly at night. Hestia had also gained a small pile of blankets and pillows to snuggle into when she was there, and there were nights where she fell asleep in her garden, her ghost as a lookout. The frame who looked after the floor the balcony was on took care of her garden when she was away, and seemed happy that someone had claimed it once again. 

She kept it a secret for a long time before she trusted anyone else access to it. His name was Aric, and she had met him when assigned to be his partner during a Strike against the Hive- they were to disrupt a ritual that Ikora had learned about from the Hidden, in a far off corner of Asia.

There were nine of them in total. Only four survived. 

Despite her years as a Guardian, Hestia really only had experience with Fallen. The Hive were different- they favored dark, small areas and overwhelming numbers. Hestia had been swarmed by Thrall and was curled around her Ghost while they attacked her. She could feel their claws shredding her, their teeth gorging on exposed flesh, drinking her Light away-

An explosion caused her vision to go white, and she welcomed the death. She awoke again, coughing and sputtering and flailing in panic, only to see Aric standing over her body and feeding his Light to her to keep her alive, the electricity from his grenades arcing through the air.

“Kestral-Two went ahead to clear the area,” he said, and the image of the tall, silent Titan flashed through her mind. “Raleigh is around somewhere, but we need to hurry. Can you walk?”

Hestia nodded, still coughing. He helped her up. “Come on. The Warlock is getting antsy.”

Raleigh was a blaze of fire when they found the other two, her solar energy burning the Hive before they could even get close. Kestral followed behind, methodically clearing out the stragglers and ensuring that the still recovering Hestia wouldn’t be flanked. 

“The ritual is up ahead,” Raleigh said. “Hestia-”

“I’m fine,” she replied, voice still rough. “Let’s end this.”

She never forgets Aric risking his life to save hers. And when he loses his fireteam years later, the only place he can sleep is in her garden.

\----

The City is usually loud and crowded, and Hestia is out of her armor to blend in. Her clothes are ill-fitting, her hair worn loose instead of the tight coil of braids under her helmet. She blends in as well as she can among those she’s supposed to protect, Star nestled among the folds of her scarf and the hand cannon strapped to her thigh the only hints as to her occupation.

The community she’s seeking is in a towering apartment complex, and she catches the door as soon as someone leaves and slips inside. The elevator rises quickly to the thirtieth floor, and it’s only a quick walk down the hallway before she finds the door she’s looking for.

It’s opened immediately when she knocks, and the old woman immediately brightens before ushering her in. “Come in, come in! Paulie, look who it is! Oh, where is that useless son of mine? Paulie! Get your ass out of bed and come here this instant!”

Hestia was practically manhandled into a stiff armchair as the woman shouted, and she sat there with a bemused smile as the woman bustled into a nearby room before returning with an equally loud man in tow. He only spared Hestia a nod before the shouting moved to the kitchen, where it was abruptly muffled behind the slammed door.

She helped herself to the small pile of candies on the coffee table.

When the two finally emerged, Paulie was carrying a tea tray and his mother had a brown package in her arms. It was carefully placed on the coffee table, but otherwise ignored. “I didn’t believe you when you said you would visit! I must tell the others- they’ll be so pleased! Little Maura especially, she’s recovered from that cough you know-”

“Ma, she isn’t here for gossip,” Paulie said in a long-suffering tone.

“Hush, you. She invested a lot into getting us out of danger, what other reason would she be here?”

Hestia cleared her throat. “I’m actually here to make sure you are settling in comfortably and to give you some gifts, Theresa. I don’t have much time, but…”

Star finally made herself known, and transmatted in a box packed with essential supplies- fabricator units, raw materials, blankets, and glimmer. “It’s all I could get my hands on,” Hestia said apologetically. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have given you more glimmer, but the fabricator units are hard to get a hold of, and it took a lot of convincing to let the Vanguard part with this much-”

The old woman pulled Hestia into a large hug, silent tears crawling down her face. Paulie looked at the supplies in awe. “A month ago we would be dead if not for you,” he said. “Now…”

“It’s the least I could do,” Hestia said. “City life is easier than in the Wilds, but it’s still hard to get by. At least with this you can have a start.”

“You have done more for us than you should,” Theresa bawled. “Riene can have her baby in comfort now.” She pulled away and pressed the package into Hestia’s arms. “This is a small payment in all that you’ve done for us, but please, take it with our utmost gratitude.”

Paulie sighed, but there was a smile on his face. “Don’t be dramatic, Ma.”

Hestia’s breath caught when she opened it.

Inside was a cloak, black and white divided with a red bird in flight. She recognized the pattern- it was the banner of the Cloudwalkers, a group of early Guardians who devoted themselves to protecting settlements. They were later absorbed into the Iron Lords, but Hunters respected their symbol. She ran her fingers over the design- the material was soft, but sturdy, and she could feel the Light woven into it, a subtle tremble beneath her fingers. “How?” she asked. “This is too much…”

“Split between thirty communities, it’s not,” Paulie said, and Hestia looked up, startled. “We all agreed on this and split the cost. One of your friends- an Awoken, hair looks like he stuck his finger in a power source? He got us into contact with Ms. Levante. She was only too happy to create this for us.”

Hestia slipped off her scarf. The cloak fell to her ankles, settling around her shoulders and face as if it was meant for her. Paulie and his mother beamed, and Hestia returned their smiles.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m honored to carry your legacies.”

When she left, the cloak was still settled around her shoulders, and for once, she was not ashamed of what she was.

\----

She catches sight of the Warlock while picking up a shipment of supplies from the postmaster.

In an effort to avoid those that wanted an extra for Variks’ Prison or someone to help take on the Trials, she put on armor that hadn’t seen maintenance in years, and the worn, battle-scarred hood that she had used before taking down the House of Talons. Eyes slid past her in disinterest or actively sneered, but it rolled off her back like oil on water. She wasn’t here for them.

At first, there wasn’t anything different about the Warlock- he seemed like any other Trials seeker, although the black-and-gold robes indicated that he was far more successful. It wasn’t until he turned around, a frown on his face, that her memory tickled the back of her mind. 

It took a while, but she suddenly remembered how she recognized him- he was the apprentice, the one the Vanguard had been searching for to get answers about Osiris’ plans. For a moment, she wondered what would happen if she let them know- then she caught his eyes, and she stilled.

The expression on his face, underneath the exhaustion, was one of simple and aching loneliness.

In that instant she knew that they were kindred spirits.

She didn’t have any delusions that she alone could help him, but she could try. It was clear that he was alone; if she didn’t extend her hand, who would?

He turned her down flat, but that was okay. She would make good on her threat- after all, no one deserved to be alone.

\----

It is two months into their new partnership when Hestia dies for the first time in years.

The pain is just as bad as she remembers, and she wakes up gasping, lying in a pool of her own blood with a horrific headache. Sniper- the hobgoblin is dead, presumably from the grenade she had thrown just before she died, but Nero is nowhere to be found.

Hestia staggers upright, but before she can even take a step forward the Warlock in question appears where the hobgoblin used to be, wings of fire still burning behind him.

She abruptly realizes how quiet it is.

“How long was I dead?”

“About two minutes,” Star replied.

She stared at Nero. “You killed all the Vex in two minutes?”

Even with his helmet, he looked uncomfortable. “I’m sure your ghost is exaggerating.”

“I am not!” Star said, offended.

“There were almost eighty of them!” Hestia exclaimed.

Nero shrugged, the wings fading into embers as he glided down to her. “I’m used to fighting alone.”

“You don’t have to anymore,” she hissed. “That’s why I’m here.”

He didn’t meet her gaze, but she wasn’t angry. Just… sad, that he had forgotten how to trust. “Come on. The signal’s not far ahead.”

It was only after their mission was over, when Hestia was alone in her ship, that Star told her how Nero had screamed her name when she died, and seemed to light the entire world on fire in his rage.

\----

“If I had known you had built a literal man cave, I wouldn’t have asked to partner with you.”

“I didn’t build it! And it’s a laboratory, not a man cave.”

“You’re a man, living in a cave.”

“A cave system.”

“Even worse.”

“You live here now too!”

“Hey, I have other bases! You need to get out more.”

“Says the one who’s even more of a recluse than I am.”

“At least I am a recluse in style.”

“Blanket forts are not stylish.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“....maybe a little.”

\----

Thirty years after her village burned, she returned to it.

Very little remained. The buildings, rough around the edges even when being cared for, were nothing but empty and derelict ruins. The graves she dug were covered in wildflowers and the pile of stones that marked each site were the only indication of their presence. 

Her own small hut that she had helped build and called her own was in better shape only because of how new it was. Her cot was gone, looted by unknown drifters, but the book of handwritten stories was still there. She flipped through it, remembering cold nights around the central fire as they were told, shrieks of laughter from the children and gentle sighs from the adults. She remembered the songs they would sing to pass time as they did their chores- shoveling snow, tilling the ground, harvesting the crops. Even now she still hummed some of them as she worked, a peaceful memory amidst the gunfire and bloodshed.

She tucks the book away and goes to the graves, sits down, and tells them the new stories she has learned.

\----

Hestia and Nero make a good team.

With her new estrangement from the Vanguard, she is able to freely go wherever she pleases. Cayde doesn’t seem to mind so long as she sends him maps of former dark areas- if Zavala and Ikora complain, he doesn’t mention it. Or maybe it’s their constant joke war; he almost banished her for the truly awful list of puns she sent him, but refrained after she pointed out that she would no longer be able to send him homemade sweets. Her toffee recipe was something she was taking to the grave even with Cayde’s bribes.

Therefore, she is able to follow him throughout the system, spotting patterns where he doesn’t, scavenging what he doesn’t realize as useful. His ability to read the enemy is legendary, and when his wings unfurl behind him, he looks like an avenging god ready to reap the souls of the nonbelievers. Hestia, for all her power with the void, is unable to truly clear a room like he can, but is more than happy to clean up after him. 

With Nero’s middle-ranged fighting abilities and Hestia’s alternating in-your-face knife fights and hidden away sniping, they were able to work around each other flawlessly. There were a few stumbles at first, of course- for all that Hestia wanted them to work together, they were still used to fighting alone. After a few grenades, rockets, and once a sword hilt had found the wrong target, they finally adapted to each others styles and learned to communicate in a way that wasn’t met with confused looks and demanded clarification.

This partnership extended off the battlefield too, which soothed her more than she was willing to admit.

Nero was fun. Once he let his walls down, she found that he was a fan of jokes, although even he tended to groan at her puns. He tended to get stuck in his own head, even more than she did, and hid a soul that just wanted a connection and purpose. He was wickedly smart, and when his eyes lit up as he discussed his research, Hestia couldn’t help but smile, wanting to see it more often.

She ensured he didn’t spend all this time cooped up in the lab, and he made certain that she didn’t lose herself in guilt of the past. As they sat together on top of the cave system in the rare times when the Vex weren’t around, making up constellations and sharing stories, she knew there was nowhere else she’d rather be and no one she’d rather be with.

A week later she brings him to her waterfall.

\----

Her fall in the Vault is devastating and confusing and the loss of her Light is worse.

She’s torn between dimensions, although she doesn’t know how she learned that. A part of her is in the Vault still, even though she’s walking breathing fighting once more.

Nero doesn’t know either. Her Ghost’s own light can revive her, but there’s still an empty, aching hole where warmth once burned, and she feels like she is no more than a shell.

She cries herself to sleep most nights, images blurring in her periphery. Of patterns, lights, past and future intertwining and dissipating, taunting her. Sleep is her only relief, but even then she dreams of endless hallways, locked doors. She screams for someone to answer her, but only her voice answers, echoing back to her.

Everyday, Nero asked if she was okay.

She lied every time, hoping that someday, it would be the truth.

\----

In hindsight, she knew that she would break the one rule her mentor set for her.

Her cloak is on the ground, discarded on top of the rest of their clothes. The waterfall is a backdrop to their quiet gasps, and as they clutch at each other, Hestia knew her heart (long dead, just beating on borrowed time, it wasn’t even keeping her alive anymore, not really) no longer belonged to her. It hadn’t for a long time.

She only hoped that he was one stripe she would never have to paint.

\----

For all her shelters, for all her communities, for all those she saved, noone and nowhere ever felt like the home she had in her village for so brief a time.

But standing in the shelter of Nero’s arms, watching as a meteor shower shines in the sky above some long forgotten part of Europe, she realized that she hadn’t felt peace like this since then.

She had forgotten that home didn’t have to be a place.

Hestia smiled, closed her eyes, and finally let go.


End file.
